


Thanks For Everything

by helens78



Category: Castle, due South
Genre: Challenge: A Ficathon Walks Into A Bar, Crossover, First Time, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Stranger Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, chance encounters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-29
Updated: 2010-10-29
Packaged: 2017-10-12 23:16:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/130219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helens78/pseuds/helens78
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Fraser has a strange reaction to a Richard Castle book, Ray's determined to figure out why.  Castle's in Chicago on a book tour, so Ray can even ask the man himself.  But Castle doesn't just want to talk about Fraser... in fact, he doesn't just want to talk, period.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thanks For Everything

**Author's Note:**

> This is my [A Ficathon Walks Into A Bar](http://intoabar.dreamwidth.org) story -- "Ray Kowalski walks into a bar and meets... Richard Castle!" -- and there is, in fact, a scene where Ray walks into a bar and meets Rick Castle. :)

"Oh, hey--" There was a Richard Castle paperback on the shelf by the checkout line; Ray reached past Fraser and grabbed a copy. When Fraser saw what it was, he blinked a few times, and okay, Fraser hadn't seen Ray get excited over a book like this lately, but Ray was kind of in the mood for a nice mystery right now. Robert B. Parker, James Patterson, Richard Castle, any of them would've done the trick, but Ray was pretty sure he hadn't read this one yet, and it was right there in front of him. Convenient.

He tossed it onto the conveyor belt along with the beer, the hot dog buns, the hot dogs, and the milk he'd been constantly short on since Fraser had come back to the States.

Not that he was complaining about the milk bill; in fact, for the past few months he'd been having fantasies about Fraser asking him to add cereal to the conveyor belt. Or Fraser inviting himself to stay for breakfast just as a regular, everyday thing. Or Fraser just moving in officially instead of sleeping on Ray's couch three nights out of four and making Ray absolutely nuts. Fraser never brought clothes over, so it was like he did the walk of shame every goddamned morning (well, seventy-five percent of the time, anyway) in spite of the fact that there was nothing going on.

Which was not for lack of trying on Ray's part, but the problem was, Fraser just didn't give off any signals, let alone pick up on 'em. Ray was pretty sure he'd have to lay one on Fraser, just haul off and kiss him, or maybe wiggle out of his jeans and bend himself over the back of the couch and say "Hey, c'mere", except in both those cases--in _any_ case involving Fraser--he could totally see Fraser missing the point and coming up with an alternate explanation, like demented brain cells caused by overbleaching-and-gelling of the hair.

Still, Fraser wasn't back in the States for no reason, right? And when he came back to Chicago (for reasons that he'd said did not need exploring at this juncture), he'd asked for Ray. Ray got it secondhand from Welsh: Mountie in his office, hat in hand, looking a little nervous and asking if perhaps there were openings in the department for a Canadian liaison. If perhaps Ray Kowalski was available, as he'd heard Detective Kowalski had returned to the 27th after his vacation in Canada.

Ray had been partnered up with Huey by then--the stand-up comedy thing had worn out its charm in a hurry, it turned out--but he'd ditched Huey so fast Huey had barely had a chance to say "Good luck--you'll need it with the Mountie back in town." Worked out fine for everybody, anyway; two months after Fraser came back, Elaine finally made Detective, and she and Huey made a great duet; their case records were kicking the shit out of Ray and Fraser's now (although Ray maintained that he and Fraser got the weird ones, which oughta count double, and that would put them pretty much toe-to-toe).

And now Fraser was staying with Ray more often than not, adding his cartons of milk to Ray's groceries, and giving him a funny look for picking up a paperback.

"What?" Ray asked. He narrowed his eyes at Fraser. "Hey, just because a bookstore's usually your dominion--"

"Domain?"

" _Stomping grounds_ , whatever--that means I can't get myself a book now and then?"

"I didn't say--"

Ray dug out his wallet and handed some cash to the cashier. "You think I don't read? I read."

"Of course you do. I've seen you do it. I just didn't realize you read mystery novels."

"Why not? It's like getting to pretend work stuff always works out for the good guys. Sometimes it's nice." Ray took the paper bag from the cashier and led Fraser out to the parking lot. "And this guy's pretty good."

"I'm aware of that," Fraser mumbled, and it wasn't so much the words as the tone of voice that made Ray just about trip over his own feet. He spun in place to get a look at Fraser's expression, but no--it didn't look like there was anything out of the ordinary going on with Fraser's face. No eyebrow rub, no neck crack, nothing. Ray frowned.

"You're aware of that?"

"I've read most of his work, yes."

"Really? You read Rick Castle?" Ray grinned. Okay, maybe Fraser had a point about finding it a little funny seeing his partner with a mystery novel, because Ray couldn't really picture Fraser reading one, either. "You got a favorite?"

And suddenly there was the eyebrow rub; in fact, Fraser stopped in the middle of the parking lot to do it. The hell? "I suppose I do, yes," Fraser admitted. "I liked _Winter Storm_."

Ray paused to think about that. The title alone made sense for Fraser, but there was something about that one... "Was that the one where Storm ended up in Canada on a case?"

"Yes."

Fraser started walking again, and once they got to the GTO, Ray put the grocery bag in the back seat even though he knew full well Diefenbaker was going to shove his whole head into it, looking for snacks. True to form, Diefenbaker made a few rumbling sounds, then looked up from the grocery bag, eyes round and disappointed.

"Hey, last time I got you a Hostess Fruit Pie, you complained about it being blueberry instead of apple," Ray pointed out, meeting Diefenbaker's eyes in the rearview mirror. "You want snack foods, you talk to the man with the hat."

"I think he's upset because I ate the last of the pemmican. We're finally all out." Fraser turned his head so Diefenbaker could read his lips. "And contrary to lupine belief, Ho-Hos are not a nutritionally adequate substitute."

Ray snickered; he pulled out of the parking space and put them on the road. _Winter Storm_ , _Winter Storm_... he could just about remember the plot. Something about... dogfighting? No, a stolen moose... no... damn. Castle had written a lot of Storm books, and they all sort of ran together for Ray; it wasn't like he bothered to read them in any kind of order. "Was there a Mountie in that one?"

Fraser went quiet again, turning back around and looking straight out the windshield. Okay, something was definitely up about this. Ray raised an eyebrow. "Fraser?"

"Yes?"

" _Winter Storm_ , you said. That was the one with Storm in Canada--was there a Mountie?"

It was a good two minutes before Fraser answered. "I believe so, yes."

"Okay, _what_?"

"Nothing." Fraser cleared his throat, glanced down at his hat, and went back to looking straight ahead. "It's nothing."

"Okay..."

"Well, not nothing, but certainly not--well." Fraser sighed. "I met him, that's all."

"The Mountie in the book? You know the guy he based that guy on?"

Diefenbaker barked twice from the back seat; Fraser turned around and glared at him. "You can keep your commentary to yourself, thank you."

"No, hold on, I didn't catch that. Dief?" But Dief was silent now, and Ray sighed. His wolf-to-human language skills were good enough to catch that Diefenbaker had favorite snack foods, but that was about it. "Okay, so you did know the Mountie in the book?"

"I--yes," Fraser said. "But I meant--I met Richard Castle once."

"Oh! Well, hey." Ray grinned. "When was that?"

"Oh, five or so years back. Shortly before you and I met, I suppose." Fraser paused again--there were a _lot_ of pauses in this conversation, Ray was noticing--and finally said, "He was in town for a book signing."

It was the most weird Fraser had ever acted for the least weird of reasons. "Cool. Did you get his autograph?"

"Ah--no. I didn't have any of his books with me at the time."

"Oh." Ray shrugged. "Well, let me know if you want to borrow this one."

"Will do, Ray. Thank you kindly."

* * *

On one hand, Fraser acting weird wasn't exactly unusual. On the other hand, Fraser getting all weird and eyebrow-rubbing over a famous mystery writer was definitely strange, and the next time Ray ended up at a bookstore--which, okay, happened because he was so curious about Fraser's reaction to that Castle book that Ray actually went to a bookstore on purpose--Ray dug through the mystery section until he turned up a copy of _Winter Storm_.

He took a look at the back cover and read the blurb--Derrick Storm finds out about a dog-theft ring (right, not dogfighting, not moose theft, _dog_ theft), ends up in Canada, partners up with a Mountie, something about a girl, blah blah blah, same old same old. He bought the book anyway, though, just in case there was something in here that would give it away. He couldn't remember if the sex in this one had actually been hot or if it'd been one of those books where it sounded like he just threw the sex in because his contract with the publisher said "one sex scene per book". Not that Ray jerked off to books, normally, but Fraser might, and that'd explain some of the weirdness.

Fraser looked a little startled when he noticed it on Ray's coffee table, but he didn't say anything about it. Ray noticed him noticing, though; he noticed the eyebrow rub and the slightly wide-eyed expression, and he was gonna figure this out if it killed him.

A couple days later, on one of Fraser's occasional evenings at the Consulate, Ray finished the book. He stared at the front cover and frowned. Hell yes, there was a Mountie in this thing. A Mountie with a dog. A Mountie with a _deaf_ dog, although it wasn't a wolf or even a half-wolf.

He paged through the beginning again, flipping back and forth, and then the dedications page practically smacked him between the eyes:

 _For Benton. Thanks for everything._

There was no way in hell that was a coincidence, between the Mountie and the deaf dog and the fact that not a lot of guys were named Benton. Ray opened the book to the inside back cover and looked at Rick Castle's smug, smiling face.

"Everything"?

* * *

So the reason Castle's last paperback was in grocery checkouts was because it'd just come out and was tearing up the bestseller charts, and the reason that book had just come out in paperback was because there was a new one hitting the stands in about a week. In fact, Richard Castle was on a book tour at this very moment.

Not that Ray had picked up a newspaper and checked out the entertainment section or anything.

Castle was appearing in a few Chicago bookstores in order to promote the newest book, _Calm Before The Storm_ , and lookit the coincidence, Ray had his copy of _Winter Storm_ in hand as he walked into Centuries  & Sleuths. He waited patiently through the line of mostly women, watched Castle autograph more than one _body part_ \--how tacky was that, although Ray had to admit that if he were a good-looking, world-famous mystery author, he might take advantage, too--and when he got up to the front of the line, he pushed his copy of _Winter Storm_ at Castle.

"Hey, old one," Castle said, grinning down at it. Not so old, only about four years old from the copyright date, but Ray had looked it up--Castle had written four new Storm books since then plus three standalones, so it probably seemed ancient to him. Castle looked up at Ray. "Longtime fan?"

"Something like that. So, uh..." Ray raised his eyebrows. "Fraser says hi."

"Fraser?" Castle finished signing Ray's copy of _Winter Storm_ and slid it back.

"You know. _Benton_ Fraser." Ray tapped a finger on the cover of the book. "RCMP."

Castle looked from the book to Ray, to the book, and back up to Ray, and then he sat back in his chair, looking Ray over carefully and smirking--the smug son of a bitch even licked his lips. But before Ray could say anything or do anything--and what the hell could he do, tell Castle to stop acting like they were at a gay bar and Ray was on the menu?--Castle just nodded. "I'll be damned," he said. "He's still in Chicago?"

"Uh-huh."

"You got a phone number for him?"

 _Mine_ , Ray thought, pressing his lips together and wrinkling his nose--but no, he wasn't gonna say that, wasn't gonna give Castle that impression, because it wasn't true. "You could call the Consulate, but otherwise he doesn't have one."

Castle glanced behind Ray at the line and sighed, straightening his shoulders. He crooked a finger and leaned forward, and Ray leaned in, and Castle lowered his voice so the rest of the line wouldn't overhear.

"You doing anything later?"

"What--no," Ray said, shaking his head.

"Okay. Gimme that back--" He took back the copy of _Winter Storm_ , flipped it open to the inside back cover, the one with his face printed on it, and scribbled something down. Ray didn't catch all of it, but he did see that there was a time--ten o'clock. Castle pushed the book back to Ray, and Ray took it, standing up again. "See you."

"Uh, yeah," Ray said, and he wandered off, clutching his book.

* * *

A few hours later, Ray walked into a beat-up, off-the-well-traveled-path bar and looked around. From the way the outside looked, he'd have expected to see a bunch of bikers; inside, it was clean--if dim--and nearly empty. In the back, jacket off, shirtsleeves rolled up, nursing a beer, was Rick Castle, who spotted Ray immediately and waved him over.

Ray dropped himself into the chair opposite Castle; within seconds, a waitress was over at the table, leaning over so Castle had a great view of her tits even though she was supposedly there to take _Ray's_ order. "What can I get you, honey?"

"Nothing."

She didn't even look at him. It was like being out to dinner with Fraser. "You sure?"

"Yep."

"I'll whistle if I need something," Castle said, smiling that smug smile at her, and okay, no--this was not like being out to dinner with Fraser, because Fraser would never have flirted back that way. "Thanks, sweetheart."

"Sweetheart," Ray said as she walked off. "Nice. So how do you know Fraser?"

"I met Benton a few years back on a book tour." Yeah, same story Fraser had had, only now Ray was sure there was something fishy about it. "How do _you_ know him?"

"We work together."

"But you're not Canadian."

"How the hell do you know that? I could too be Canadian." Castle sat back, crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow. And smirked. "I like, uh, hockey, and I got no problem with socialized medicine, and I have driven a dogsled team, plus I can stomach pemmican, so where do you get off saying I'm not Canadian?"

"For one thing, you have the attitude of a native Chicagoan, born and bred," Castle said, "and for another, you're carrying--I'm gonna say two handguns, neither one of which you'd have a concealed-carry license for if you were Canadian. Now, granted, you could just be carrying illegally, but again--I don't think a Canadian would do that, plus most people who carry illegally-concealed firearms just shove them into their waistband, whereas you actually own a shoulder holster and probably one for your boot. Though I might be wrong about the boot gun; it's a little dark in here."

Ray stared at him; he didn't even care if his jaw was down around his knees. "Okay, that--that was--"

"Ooh, I'm not wrong about the boot gun." Castle wiggled his eyebrows. "Awesome. I'm not good enough to spot the caliber or type under somebody's clothes, but--"

"I was going to say freaky," Ray corrected. "How the hell did you do that?"

"I'm a writer. I watch people. I figure stuff out. It's a thing." Castle shrugged. "So you're a cop, huh? Benton's still liaising with the Chicago P.D.?"

Ray crossed his arms over his chest and fumed for a second or two. There was something about the way he'd said _liaising_ , like it was dirty or something, and it wasn't, dammit, so that was just wrong. "Yeah," he said, finally.

"But you're not sleeping with him."

Ray shoved his chair back and started to turn, but Castle was right there with him, catching him by the arm. "You're right, you're right, I'm sorry--that was out of line."

"You want to ask me something like that in a public place, you're goddamned right it was out of line. Fraser's--he's my partner," Ray said tightly. "I'm a cop and he's my partner."

"You're right," Castle said. He still had his hand on Ray's arm, and his thumb--he moved his thumb up and down across Ray's bicep, and Ray watched him, still trembling a little. "So how about we move this somewhere less public?"

Ray squinted at him, looked him over. He looked completely serious, but Ray couldn't tell if that was a "no-funny-business" kind of look or if Castle was all about the funny business.

Either way, though, same answer, so Ray sighed and nodded. "Yeah, okay. You got a car?"

"I can go one better than that. I have a hotel room."

Ray rolled his eyes. "I meant, do you need a lift, or is one of us following the other--"

"I'll take the lift."

"Okay."

It took Castle a few minutes to settle up his tab--the waitress was so slow it had to be on purpose--but once he was done, they got into Ray's car and headed toward Castle's hotel.

"I didn't catch your name," Castle said.

"Huh." Ray shot him a look out of the corner of his eye. "You good enough at guessing to guess that, too?"

"No, I better not. I'd give you a cheesy name like... I don't know." His gaze was so sharp Ray could feel it practically all over, which made Ray squirm in his seat. "Something Steel. Jonah Steele. With an 'e' on the end."

"Jonah?"

"If you were ten years younger, maybe Johnny, but no. And you gotta have a two-syllable first name to shore up a one-syllable last name. Better impact."

"Nothing wrong with a one-syllable first name." Though now that Ray was thinking about it, Raymond was two syllables. Benton was two syllables.

"Ahhh. Well, that narrows it down. Tom?"

"No."

"Dick?"

"No."

"Stan?"

Ray hesitated, but as Castle started in with an "Ah- _ha_ ," Ray cut in.

"Not Stan." But Stanley was two syllables, too; maybe Castle was on to something. Ray shook his head. "Ray, all right? Ray. Ray Kowalski," he said, and then, as an afterthought, "nice to meet you."

"Okay, one and three works, too," Castle admitted. "So Benton's last name is Fraser, huh? Didn't know that."

"But you put his dog in your book."

"Well, I knew he _had_ the--oh, he's still got the dog? That's fantastic! How old is he?"

"How the hell would I know?" Ray shot back. He paused. "I got him a whole box of cupcakes for his last birthday, though."

"Cupcakes?"

"Yeah, he's got a thing for junk food. Unlike Fraser."

"Oh, yeah, that is not the kind of body you get with a perpetual Twinkie habit."

Ray had a vision of taking his hands off the wheel and strangling Castle--nice and slow, so he'd take half an hour to really pass out, and he knew just where to dump the body.

"Although depending on your definition of Twinkie, maybe he--"

"Okay, enough," Ray said. _Maybe he what? Maybe he what? What the hell do you know that I don't know?_ Ray was trying really hard not to let himself ask that question, because the answer was pretty obvious--and it was making him wonder how Fraser spent the couple nights a week he didn't stay over at Ray's. "How the fuck did you meet Fraser?"

"Oh, it's a good story," Castle murmured, and Ray kept his eyes on the road, both hands on the steering wheel--if he looked over at Castle, he might drive the car into a building and kill both of them. "How about we wait until we're in the room before I tell it? We're almost there."

Ray nodded; it was just as well. He liked his car way too much to waste it killing Castle, anyway.

* * *

Castle's hotel room was decent enough--big, clean, had a minibar--but it was no penthouse suite. Ray smirked a little, and Castle sighed.

"Life of a New York Times best-selling author: slightly less glamorous than you'd think," Castle admitted. "You want a drink or anything?"

"You know what I want." Ray put his hands on his hips and rocked back on his heels, raising his eyebrows at Castle.

Castle blinked at him for a second, and then--oh, God, not the goddamned smirk again, Ray was not putting up with more of that smirk, just _no_ \--but Castle was closing in on him, and he reached out a hand and wrapped his fingers around the back of Ray's neck, and--

Well, fuck; Ray was only human, for Christ's sake, and how the hell long had it been?

Castle tasted very faintly of beer and kissed like a man who loved it when people wanted him, and okay, _okay_ , Ray wanted--if not him, exactly, then this, at least. Castle was here, and willing, and good-looking enough, and those were three things out of three that Ray hadn't gotten from anybody else in a while. It was the middle one that was the sticking point, really, because Fraser was _there_ and Fraser was, God knew, plenty good-looking, but Fraser wasn't about to grab Ray by the back of the neck and open his mouth and lick Ray's tongue until Ray just gave in and shuddered in his arms.

"Yeah," Castle whispered against Ray's lips. "Me, too."

He was wrong--he was kinda wrong--but Ray didn't give a shit at this point. He shrugged out of his jacket and let Castle strip his shirt off--Castle _did_ lick his lips and give Ray a victorious little eyebrow-wiggle when Ray slipped his holster off, because yeah, he'd been right about that all along--and when Castle ran his hands over Ray's arms and glanced down to take a closer look at Ray's tattoo, Ray just let him. Good enough. Good enough for right now.

They made it to the bed, sitting down to get boots and shoes off, and Ray pushed his jeans to the floor while he waited for Castle to get all his buttons undone. A shirt that nice, Ray might've bothered to hang up, but Castle just tossed it aside and finished getting undressed. He snagged a condom and a couple of lube packets out of his pocket before leaving his pants behind, too, and he threw the condom and lube onto the bed. Ray glanced down at them before looking up at Castle again.

"You do this a lot, huh?"

"Come on. You wouldn't?" Ray shrugged; Castle climbed onto the bed with him. "Let me tell you my secret here." Castle was climbing onto him now, and Ray scooted back up the bed to get his head on the pillows, at least. Castle followed, settling down on him, and--okay, fuck, just having someone else's bare warm skin up against his was enough to make Ray gasp. Wrong guy, maybe, but all the right parts; Ray wasn't going to kick him out of bed for talking too much.

"Secret's this. You just gotta be willing to ask." Ray shot him a look; Castle nodded at him. "Just gotta ask. Helps if you have a good grin to go with it--" and he demonstrated, giving Ray a grin that was just this side of the smug one he'd had on his face all night, the kind of grin that--yeah, _yeah_ , okay, okay, Ray could see that grin getting him anything he wanted.

Ray, on the other hand, was forty-two, skinny, and would probably look stupid as hell doing that.

"Worst somebody can do is say no, but you know what--you ask right, they probably won't."

"Easy for you to say," Ray mumbled.

Castle glanced down the bed where their legs were tangled together. "I got no complaints about where I am right now."

Which--okay, that was a good point; Castle had spent the afternoon signing beautiful women's body parts and was still here in this hotel with Ray. Ray nodded and sank a little deeper into the bed, brought his knees up to get Castle wedged a little tighter between his thighs. "Yeah, well, I'm not complaining, either, but maybe you wanna do something before I die of waiting, huh?"

"Oh, trust me, I want to do something." Castle brought his mouth down on Ray's again, and Ray moaned against his lips. Christ, yeah--it felt good to be wanted, good not to be left wondering. Ray slid one arm up, around Castle's neck so he could sink his fingers into Castle's hair, and he moved his other arm down, slipping his hand down Castle's side to his hip, then squeezing his ass and drawing him forward.

Castle was hard, his cock rubbing against Ray's thigh, and Ray shuddered underneath him. This was all going fast--real fast, even if they were taking the trouble to at least get in some kissing--and Ray had a moment's flash of insight that this was going to be a quick fuck, a one-night stand, something Castle might not remember in the long run unless he wanted to put it in one of his fucking books--

"Hey--" He tried to yank back; Castle noticed, thank God, and pushed up so he could look Ray in the eye.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Don't--don't write about this, okay? I'm not a Mountie, I'm not--I'm just a cop. Nothing special."

"Oh, come on, everybody's special for something," Castle said. He didn't look away from Ray, didn't lose that sharp look into Ray's eyes, but he reached down the bed toward where he'd dropped the condom and the lube, and he put them down right next to Ray's shoulder. "You want to stop, we can stop. No promises about the writing, though--I can't help it. It's in my nature."

"Being a dick is kind of in your nature, too, isn't it?"

Castle shrugged, and God, there was that smirk again. "Kinda maybe." He licked his lips. "You going anywhere?"

So here it was, put up or shut up time, and Ray took a deep breath and pulled Castle back down to him, kissing him hard this time. Castle rocked down against him, and Ray brought his knees up, let Castle know the answer was _hell no, let's do this thing_.

There was something not the least bit surprising about the fact that Castle topped; he didn't even ask whether Ray minded rolling over. He pulled away just long enough to get the condom on, just long enough to snap the lube packet open and guide his fingers into Ray's ass--oh, _fuck_ , Ray didn't get to do this anywhere near often enough, and _Christ_ but Castle had nice thick fingers--and then he was right back on top of Ray, sinking in, eyes narrowed to slits as he pushed into Ray's body.

" _Fuck_ ," Ray panted.

"Tell me that means you want it harder," Castle groaned. " _Please_."

"Yeah, okay, fuck me, _go_ \--"

Castle did it--drove in good and hard, making Ray tilt his head back and close his eyes. It might not have been what he'd come here for, but it was good enough, and if Castle wasn't quite driving thoughts of Fraser out of Ray's head, at least he was reminding Ray that someone out there had some goddamned use for him.

"Ray--c'mere, look at me, _look_ \--"

Ray got his eyes open and looked up at Castle--and somehow the smirk was gone, and it wasn't like being used, it was like being _with_ somebody, being with somebody who could want him back--

"God-- _yeah_ ," Ray growled, reaching up and getting both hands into Castle's hair. "C'mon-- _Rick_ \--fuck me like you mean it--"

Castle laughed, and he planted his hands on the bed by Ray's shoulders. "I mean it," he said, and then it was _on_ \--he was moving in short and sharp, hips slamming against Ray's ass, making the damned bed rock. Ray slid his hands down to Castle's ass and tugged him forward, drawing him in deep. Castle was out of breath, panting hard, but Ray was right there with him, sweating and gasping and taking every damn inch of Castle over and over and _over_ again, and the only question now was who was gonna give in and come first.

Balancing on one hand, Castle slid the other to Ray's cock and got a good tight grip on it, and _fuck_ , that was cheating, that was not playing fair one little goddamned bit, because Castle's hand was just tight enough, moving just fast enough, and Ray dug his fingernails into Castle's ass and clenched his teeth and _came_ , cock jerking against Castle's grip.

"Hell yeah," Castle groaned, hands going back down to brace himself, and--fuck, he wasn't going to give Ray any time to recover, so Ray closed his eyes and held on, taking it, letting Castle have those last few _damnably_ hard thrusts, until it was too much for him, too, and he came with a groan and a grunt, collapsing onto Ray when it was over.

Castle was warm, and solid, and Ray was going to ache for a couple days after this--being out of practice sucked in a lot of ways, although the ache wasn't going to be entirely unwelcome, Ray had to admit--and for a few minutes, he just lay there under Castle and soaked those sensations in.

But when Castle finally climbed off him, Ray pushed himself up onto his elbows, wondering how long he needed to wait before he could leave. He looked up at the ceiling, let his head fall backwards, and stretched his legs out. He'd be all right; if Fraser was there when he got home, he probably wouldn't give much away.

"Ouch," Castle said softly, running a hand over Ray's shoulder. "I got, what, ten seconds before you started thinking about him again?"

"You got longer than that," Ray said, looking away, spinning so he could climb out of bed and find his clothes. "Just--that was all. Okay?"

"It's fine." Castle headed to the bathroom. Ray could hear the water running for a while, long enough for Castle to clean up, and then Castle was back, leaning up against the bathroom doorway. "I never told you about Benton and me."

Ray shook his head. "I read your book," he said. He got back into his holster, shrugged into his jacket. "The rest, it's none of my business."

"Healthy way to look at it," Castle admitted. "Planning on telling him?"

Ray's head snapped back around, and he looked hard at Castle. "Telling him what?"

Castle lifted his hands--how the man managed to look so damned casual while he was butt naked, Ray didn't know. "Not this," he said. "Figured you wouldn't go right home and brag about this. I meant about you. Because I'm not the only one who--" Castle stopped, shook his head, tried again. "Look, I don't want to go into detail that you don't want, but I wasn't the only guy to take him home. Probably not the last. And you either knew that already or you're trying real hard not to know it. But does he know about you?"

"I don't know." Ray shook his head, looking away again. Boots; that was the last thing he needed to do before he could get out of here.

"So tell him. Work it out. It works out sometimes."

That was a tone of voice Ray almost recognized. He looked at Castle again; Castle's lips were thinned out, and he was looking away, like he'd been blindsided by something of his own.

"Bad divorce?"

Castle looked at him. "I guess I owed you one for the mind-reading schtick before, huh?"

"I've been there. It sucks."

"Yeah. But it's not everything."

"True enough," Ray admitted. He had his boots laced up now, and he ran his hands through his hair, exhaled harshly as he looked down at the carpet. "I'm gonna go. Thanks for the--whatever."

"Hey, I'm good at the whatever. You need some more whatever next time you're in New York, you let me know."

Ray actually laughed at that. "Yeah? Well, if you need a ridealong the next time you're in Chicago, maybe I can help out with that."

"It's really too bad you're not in New York," Castle said, sighing. "I could really use some contacts in the NYPD for research. I always did wonder how Benton got the liaison job; it sounded like it would've been fun. It's not like I don't solve crimes for a living already."

Ray thought that over and shrugged; maybe Castle had a point. "From what I hear, he showed up on the 27th precinct's doorstep one day on a case and then didn't leave. Made himself useful enough not to get shown the door."

"I could do that."

"Might help if you get a nice hat. Bright red jacket, boots, you know." Ray grinned.

"Not my style. Maybe a tac vest that says 'writer' instead of 'police'?"

Ray couldn't even picture that, the thought was so absurd--but then again, until a few years ago, he wouldn't have pictured a Mountie making his home south of the border. "Weirder things have happened, I guess."

"There are _always_ weirder things. Why do you think I ended up a writer?"

Laughing, Ray headed for the door; Castle followed him and put a hand on Ray's shoulder before he could walk out. "Hey. Good luck."

"Thanks," Ray said quietly. He stopped, turned, and pulled Castle in for one last kiss before leaving. Castle kissed him back, and it was a minute or two before Ray eased out of Castle's arms. "Good night."

"Good night."

* * *

Fraser was lying sprawled on Ray's couch when Ray got in; he had the television turned to a nature documentary, which Diefenbaker was watching. Dief was barely two feet away from the screen--couldn't be good for his eyes, but Fraser claimed he needed to be that close in order to read the closed captions.

"Hey," Ray said softly. Fraser looked up, and he stared at Ray for a while before sitting up. "Sorry I'm late."

"We didn't have plans," Fraser said. He kept looking at Ray, until Ray took a seat on the couch next to him--and then he looked Ray over, head to foot, nostrils flared a little like he was--

\--God, like he was smelling him. And what he'd been doing. Ray rubbed at his face and sighed. "Fraser--"

"I hope you don't mind that we let ourselves in, but I thought... I mean, you did give me the key. But I don't mean to be... I don't want my presence here to be intrusive."

"You're not," Ray said immediately. "I want you here." He sighed; Castle was probably right about asking, right about telling Fraser the truth, but it was still hard to say anything that couldn't just be taken for a sign of friendship. "I always wanted you here. I was so damned happy when you came back."

Fraser looked at his hands for a moment, then rubbed at his eyebrow. "I thought so," he said quietly. "Should I ask where you were?"

"Thinking."

"Thinking?"

"Just--tell me something," Ray said quietly. "Why'd you come back?"

Fraser looked away. "I've been back for months, and you're asking _now_ , after you--"

"You've been back for months and you could've told me any time. Why'd you come back, Fraser?"

He waited, and waited, and when Fraser finally turned to look at him, Ray could see it. Hope, and longing, and maybe more than that, but _enough_ \--enough to go on, if Ray could make himself ask.

He reached out and put his hand on Fraser's cheek, and Fraser's eyes fluttered closed.

"Maybe because of that?"

"I... maybe," Fraser whispered. "Ray--"

"I'm glad you're here," Ray murmured, and he leaned in, touching his lips to Fraser's, finally asking.

Fraser kissed him back, reaching out to curl his hand into Ray's shirt, and it was exactly the answer Ray needed.

 _-end-_


End file.
